


We'll Get Through This Together

by Cockles_Cooperative



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cockles Cooperative Advent Calendar Challenge, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misha's hip surgery, POV Jensen Ackles, POV Misha Collins, Self-Esteem Issues, ten year anniversary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21941527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cockles_Cooperative/pseuds/Cockles_Cooperative
Summary: Misha and Jensen both have insecurities, but they'll work through them together.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins
Comments: 5
Kudos: 87
Collections: Cockles Advent Calendar Challenge





	We'll Get Through This Together

**Author's Note:**

> For A. 
> 
> I'm very rusty, thank you for encouraging me to write again.
> 
> xo

Misha ran his fingers over the glossy, slightly sticky wood table. It was one of those places that was just dark enough to be intimate without straining his eyes. The candles on the table gave his dining partner an ethereal glow. The plains of Jensen’s face look even more beautiful, even more unreal under the soft light of the Edison bulbs this place uses. The whole aesthetic screams Jensen and it makes Misha smile.

“Is this the same table J?”

“Of course.” Jensen reveals this information as if it isn’t the sappiest thing he could have done, as if he isn’t at all self-conscious about being sentimental. But then, Misha supposes he isn’t self-conscious. Jensen has made very deliberate choices to show Misha how he feels, making grand romantic gestures in the same matter of fact way he would talk about the weather. Jensen presents it all as fact, showing very little vulnerability about his feelings these days.

Misha, however, was a ball of emotion, weepy and sensitive, when he heard “All Our Own” the first time. As Jensen explained it, the whole album was largely influenced by Misha, and Danneel, but that song… that song was for them. Misha still gets glassy eyed when he hears it.

“We should take a picture. Just like the one we took that night.” Jensen sounds so happy, and nonchalant about something that makes Misha’s whole world tilt. Jensen has come so far, and every time he is so open about his feelings, so affectionate, it soothes something deep inside of Misha he never thought could be soothed.

Misha knows which picture Jensen means but he wants to see what Jensen will say, “which one was that?”

Jensen simply pulls his phone out and goes to a specific album, talking as he flips through the photos clearly knowing exactly where he stored it, “you know Mish, the one we took at this table. With the candles and our drinks and we look like fucking babies in it… ah here!”

Jensen shoves his phone into Misha’s hands, and Misha can’t help the huge gummy smile on his face. He remembers everything about the moment this was taken. He remembers how out of his league he thought Jensen was (he still has those thoughts though they are fewer and further between now), he remembers how electrifying their every touch was, even a simple bump of their knees. Every moment was full of promise, potential. He realizes that feeling hasn’t gone away, he still feels that charge just as strong today, only now, there’s mostly comfort where before there was anxiety. A decade later and Misha doesn’t ask himself the ‘what if’ questions nearly as often.

“We were babies… you are still beautiful though J, and I turned into this old man.” Misha jokes. He always jokes. Jensen knows though, he speaks fluent Misha by now.

“Mish...” Jensen pauses, considering his next words carefully, “do you remember what we did after dinner that night?” a small quirk of his lips lightens the question.

Of course, Misha remembers. He remembers how he took Jensen apart with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He remembers how Jensen had wept, so overcome with emotion, with joy, letting out years of self-hatred and posturing, letting Misha in… Misha remembers how he felt too, in awe. Like this was all too good to be true. He realizes now that he never really stopped feeling that way. He’s always, somewhere in the back of his mind, been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Wondering how this talented, beautiful man could possibly see anything in him. Wondering when Jensen will look at him and see him for the over the hill mess he really is.

Jensen gives him time to sort through memories before speaking again. “Mish, that was the night I first really felt like… me. You opened my world and you have everyday since then man.” Jensen takes Misha’s hand in his own, gently kissing his knuckles. “Just because you’re startin’ to rock the silver fox thing a lil’ doesn’t mean you’re not still the sexiest fuckin’ man alive.” Jensen pauses, lowering his voice a touch. The rough almost whisper has Misha adjusting himself without realizing, “I still can’t even think about that night without getting hard. Sometimes it only takes a glimpse of your hands, your fucking mouth… I can barely stand it.”

Misha’s breathing has gotten shallow, trying not to reach over and claim this man who owns his heart so thoroughly.

Misha licks his lips and says, “let’s get that picture and then go back to your place. I want to see if I can get you to make those noises again.”

Jensen’s eyes darken as he bites his lip. He opens the camera app without looking away from Misha, “fuck yeah.”

Jensen wanted to be in Chicago for the surgery, but Misha insisted he would see Jensen after. Danneel, fucking saint that she is, keeps his mind occupied that weekend. Though both are worried, they also know that Misha is in the best possible hands.

It’s a long couple of days and Jensen is nearly vibrating out of his skin when he makes it up to Washington. They’ve been texting a lot, but Misha is full of self-deprecating humor and stories from texting his fans. Jensen can’t get answers to the questions he really has until he sees Misha. When he does finally see him, he looks both the same and completely different.

Misha is still the built, stunning man Jensen has known him to be. But where his blue eyes are usually alight with mischief, they are now strained. Jensen can tell Misha is clearly in pain. Misha had told him how much he hated pain killers, but Jensen didn’t realize how far that sentiment went, that he would rather hurt this much.

Misha’s toned arms, back, thighs… are all still the same, fucking breathtaking, only now they hold a tension. And when Misha looks up and sees Jensen, he only gets a ghost of a smile before Misha is sliding his eyes away. Like he doesn’t want Jensen to be able to read him, to really see him.

Jensen doesn’t push right away, he simply refreshes Misha’s tea, fluffs the pillows around him, opens the window to let a breeze in and get the stale air out. Jensen realizes that he’s nervous. The only other times he’s seen Misha in similar circumstances were unplanned, a bicycle accident, the mugging… Jensen shudders. Those are not good memories for him.

Finally, he can’t let the silence continue. He sits down on the coffee table in front of Misha and takes the man’s hands in his own. “Talk to me Mish.”

Misha huffs, “what do you want me to say J? That I’m hurting, yeah -I’m fucking hurting. That I hate this? Yes, I fucking hate this.”

Jensen lets that roll around his mind for a minute. “Mish, what exactly do you mean by ‘this’?” Jensen is trying his best to speak calmly, to not agitate Misha. He can tell this is delicate for Misha.

Now Misha laughs darkly. “All of this,” he spits, gesturing at himself, “me! I am officially old and fucking useless.”

It clicks then for Jensen. Misha’s age has been tender spot for the man since he hit 40. He knows how awful this industry can be, how Misha has been told to lose weight, tone up, dye his hair, get botox, etc. The list goes on and on. Jensen knows Misha feels inadequate. Sure, Jensen has been told to lose weight in the past, that he needed the abs everyone expects, but Jensen largely gets left alone -for now.

“I wish you could see what I see.”

Misha scoffs.

Jensen runs his fingers over Misha’s hands, feeling the callouses. “The first time you showed me some of the woodwork you had done, the house you fucking built, I wondered why you were on our second rate show when you could be out there like the next Frank Lloyd Wright.”

Misha pulls his hands back, clearly uncomfortable and not entirely sure what to do with that.

Jensen then leans forward and slowly runs the backs of his fingers lightly up Misha’s thighs. He goes slow, not wanting to hurt him, just a ghost of a touch. “The first time I saw you in your underwear we were on set, it had been raining and we were soaked. You pulled your jeans down and you had on these bright orange boxer briefs. We weren’t even together yet but all I could think about was having your thighs tight around my head while I sucked your cock. I thought you were so fucking built and gorgeous and that it was only a matter of time before they snatched you up for another show, a movie, and you’d forget having been on the show at all.”

Misha fidgets. Jensen can see he’s half hard, but also still clearly uncomfortable, both with the praise and physically in pain.

Jensen leaves one hand on Misha’s thigh and reaches up with the other to lightly touch the lines next to Misha’s eyes, then run his fingers through the hair at Misha’s slightly greying temple. “I remember one of the first things I noticed about you was your smile. How you somehow become even more gorgeous when you’re laughing. I thought, how can one man be so amazing in so many ways? Then I heard about your degree, your past jobs, businesses… I couldn’t understand what someone like you would see in this dumb Texas boy besides a pretty mouth and the ability to blue steel on command.”

Misha starts to argue but Jensen puts his hand over his mouth.

“Sometimes you’ll be deep in conversation with someone about social media algorithms and the best use of your voice to make an impact, or political strategies and messaging in order to help specific candidates win campaigns and I think… what the fuck is he doing with me? You could be running these campaigns, or hell, running for office. You are brilliant and inspire people. You inspire me. Not to mention… you’re unfairly attractive. So please don’t… don’t…” Jensen takes a deep breath, willing down his own self-doubt. That ball of anxiety that took root a decade ago when he and Misha started this and he realized one day Misha would leave him for someone smarter, someone more talented, more artistic. “Mish, one of the reasons I have done the things I’ve done is to keep up with you. I started eating better, got leaner. I started the brewery, began directing, made an album… I wanted to be worthy of you. I didn’t want you to lose interest.”

Jensen looks up now, his hand still covering Misha’s mouth, but above that blue eyes shine with tears. Slowly, Jensen lowers his hand.

“I feel useless and not good enough and- “this time Misha’s hand covers Jensen’s mouth abruptly.

“Shut up J.” Misha’s voice is scratchy but not angry. Jensen feels his own emotions getting too close to the surface, eyes getting a little too wet. He hates crying, not because there’s anything wrong with showing emotion but because he hates feeling out of control.

“Jensen… I- “Misha can’t seem to focus on one singular thought, eyes darting from Jensen’s eyes to his mouth and away, looking around the room as if he’ll find the words he needs in the space around them. “Will you help me to the deck? We can put some pillows on the bench and get comfortable. I think we could use some air.”

Misha’s hand drops from Jensen’s mouth. Jensen picks it up and puts a kiss to his palm before standing and pulling Misha slowly up to his feet.

“Of course, Mish.” Jensen recognizes the segway for what it is, not a dismissal but acceptance. He wants them to enjoy this time, simply being together in one of Misha's favorite spots.

Misha looks down quickly, but Jensen sees his smile anyway.

“The guest room is full of Christmas presents so I suppose you have no choice but to share with me.”

Jensen raises his eyebrow.

“Vicki knew you were coming and left about an hour before you got here. Took the kids to see her sister for a few days. Said I needed my husband to get me out of my funk.”

Jensen laughs thinking that sounds about right.

Before he can lead them outside though Jensen feels Misha lean into his space, putting more weight on him than he normally would, and press his mouth to Jensen’s. Misha tastes like tea and honey and it makes Jensen weak in the knees with how much he feels for this man. How lucky he feels to have this.

Warmth settles deep in Jensen's chest and some of that anxiety loosens, the way it always does whenever Misha makes him feel so capable and needed; the reminder that they both need eachother. 


End file.
